A Study in Drabbles
by The Fandom Queen
Summary: Drabbles. Various pairings, M because I like lemons. Post-pre-during Reichenbach.
1. Chapter 1

**A Story In Two Elements: **

**A broken wristwatch and peppermints. **

**Drabbles. **

Where are you? –SH

_At the pub, why? - JW_

New case. Need your help. –SH

_Be right there. Have you eaten? –JW_

No, we have a case. –SH

_I'll bring you something. –JW_

Thank you. –SH

John Watson entered 221B to find Sherlock Holmes seated at the kitchen counter, looking at something intently through his microscope. He placed a paper bag of food next to him, and reached into a cabinet to fetch a glass. Filling it with water, he sat down opposite Sherlock.

"Care to fill me in?"

Sherlock glanced up, shifting a few papers to the side so he could reach his food. John had gotten him macaroni and cheese. How thoughtful.

"Lestrade phoned earlier. They found a body next to the river. Young woman, mid 20's, gunshot wound to the head."

John took a sip of his water. "Any ideas?"

"Three so far. I'm going to speak with the woman's mother tomorrow. She had ID."

"Mm. I'm tired. Will you be working late?"

"Yes, John. We have a case."

John set his glass by the sink before turning to retire to his room. He pointed at the paper bag. "Eat."

_There is water in the kettle, biscuits in the tin, and tea bags next to the kettle. I assume you know where the mugs are. I have to work until 4. Eat. –JW_

Molly Hooper entered her morgue after her lunch break to find Sherlock Holmes bent over the body of a young woman who had been brought in the day before. The harsh lights beat down on her skin, making her seem to be vaguely yellow. Sherlock was examining the waxy corpse with a magnifying glass.

"Hello, Sherlock. Can I help you with anything?" Molly asked him breathily, brushing past to her autopsy reports on her desk.

"Coffee, black. I'll be working here for a while."

Molly frowned down at her report. She had been hoping Sherlock might have actually needed her other than to get him coffee. He continued to examine the young woman, and just before Molly left the room he called out.

"Do you have the clothes she was brought in with?"

Molly turned. "The Police took them back to Scotland Yard, I believe. You could check there."

Sherlock gave her a brief smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Thank you."

_Did you manage not to burn down the flat? –JW_

Yes, thank you. When will you be off work? –SH

_I told you, 4. –JW_

I need you before that. –SH

_Where? –JW_

The Yard. –SH

_Be right there. –JW_

"John, over here."

Sherlock called John over to a lab table in the forensics department of The Yard. There was an orange overcoat lying on the table next to a pair of cuffed trousers, a brown jumper, and some converse shoes. He pulled a receipt from a bag next to the clothing. It was entitled "Ernie's Watch Shoppe," and was for a £760 wristwatch.

"She had purchased a watch?" John questioned, not seeing any connection.

"Look at the date on the receipt. The same date she was murdered. There was no watch on her, but there is a tan on her wrist, presumably from where she had worn a watch."

John stared at him, he still didn't understand the significance.

"When you have a tan like this, it's from someone that routinely wears a wristwatch. Every day. So where is her watch?"

"Good question."

Peppermints. –SH

_What? –JW_

You smelled of peppermints. –SH

_And? –JW_

Why do you smell of peppermints? –SH

John? –SH

_I don't smell of peppermints. –JW_

Then why did I smell peppermints? –SH

_I have no idea. Have you eaten dinner? –JW_

No, too busy. –SH

_EAT. –JW_

_I had mint tea before I came. –JW_

I told you. –SH

It was her boyfriend. –SH

_What? –JW_

The woman. It was her boyfriend. He stole her watch. –SH

_How could you tell? –JW_

Simple, really. He had the watch that she had purchased. It was broken from a fight they had had. –SH

_He killed her over a watch? –JW_

Silly, isn't it. –SH

Bored. –SH

Bored bored. –SH

Borrrrreeeeeeeddddddddd. –SH

_Sherlock, I'm working. –JW_

_Go have a drink. –JW_

I never realized what an aphrodisiac the smell of peppermints is. –SH

_You took my advice, then? –JW_

Come home. –SH

I need you. –SH

John. –SH

John, I want you. –SH

_Sherlock, I'm working. –JW_

We can celebrate. –SH

_Be right there. –JW_


	2. Chapter 2

It was the one thing he coveted the most. John Watson sat before him in a crème jumper and dark-washed trousers, thoroughly engrossed in his latest novel. Sherlock knew how it would end, of course. He could have spoiled it for John, but what would be the fun in that? Let his naïve mind process it. His wife would leave him, his drinking problem would get worse, and in a "strange" twist of events the man would fall in love with his coworker. Truth really could be stranger- and more interesting- than fiction.

He absentmindedly tapped his lips with his steepled hands. John was an enigma to Sherlock. Sherlock had no friends, he felt no emotion, love was simply a chemical reaction in the brain. So why did he feel this way?

_Give me love. _

Sherlock coveted love. Not just love, but the love of John Watson. He could imagine leaning over and kissing him on the lips. Running his fingers through John's soft sandy hair. He could push all of his indescribable emotion into John, forcing him to see. See. Sherlock could force john to see, but what was Sherlock seeing? Emotion is a game of cards. Or, in Sherlock's mind, a game of chemicals.

Sherlock leaned forward suddenly.

"Kiss me, John Watson."

John looked up, startled. "I- What?"

"I want to test something. Kiss me."

"Sherlock I-"

_Give me love._

Sherlock cut off his sentence by crashing his lips against his. They clashed together softly, lovingly. The heat of love bubbled beneath their lips, and they gripped each other tighter. Sherlock moved so he was straddling John. He entered his tongue into John's mouth, tasting all of him. He realized for the first time that he needed John.

The thing that he coveted the most.

_Love._

_John._

_John's love. _

They broke their heated kiss, staring into each other's eyes.

A/n: Wow, okay. Song for this chapter is Give Me Love by Ed Sheeran.

I'm not sure what came over me.. Enjoy… comments and favorites are appreciated. 'm going to go sob into a pit of Johnlock feels, now…


	3. Chapter 3

_A/n: Thanks to everyone who has read these! They're short, I know. But there will be a lot of them, and that's the point. Review, review, review! Give me ideas, if you want. PROMPTS ARE ALWAYS WELCOME. :)_

The heroin courses through his veins. Everything is sharp, bright, clear. Sherlock sits on a black leather couch in the middle of a crowded room. Sweaty teenage bodies sway to the beat of unsteady music. Laughter. Piercing laughter. A couple is intertwined in a corner.

He can see everything, hear everything. He flexes his arm, pushing the drug deeper into his system. Convulsions run through his arched back as a new wave of piercing senses glide through him.

He stares ahead, his sharp green eyes biting through his eyelashes to the space before him. A brunette girl leads a young boy to the stairs. The boy's sandy hair is ruffled and his face is flushed. He trips over a stray bottle, almost pulling the girl down with him. They ascend the stairs.

Sherlock stands, pushing his way through the throng, opening the front door, and stepping into the cool, crisp air. He lights a cigarette, taking a long drag. The smoke forms rings. Moonlight streams down, illuminating the street. The house behind him thrums with energy. Shrieks and laughter from inside spill into the lawn.

A glass breaks.

Sherlock picks up a shard, pressing it into his skin. A stream of blood trickles down his arm. It colors the pavement, staining it with rust.

The night dissolves.


End file.
